6 months, 3 days, 11 hours
by WastedJamie
Summary: Set after the last scene of Deadman's Blood. John and Dean have a talk after his "yeah, but we saved your ass" comment. Warning - Beware of language and a few physical altercations between John and Dean in which Dean loses.


AN: So it's been forever since I've written anything. I was out on a leave of absence from work for 8 weeks recovering from an operation and I stumbled across this one I started back in season one on one of my old computers. Anyway, I tweaked it a bit and thought what the heck; why not post it. Hope you enjoy and feedback is always welcome. I know I for one still miss John.

John - So boys,

Sam - Yes sir?

John - You ignored a direct order back there.

Sam - Yes sir.

Dean – Yeah, but we saved your ass.

Talk about your awkward silence. You could have heard a pin drop ten miles away as Sam nearly lost his shit while John shot Dean an ominous look. Dean knew that look all to well. It always meant one of two things. Behind door #1, John was going to make him sweat it out for a second or two, chew him out a bit, but eventually let his belligerent attitude slide with just a stern warning to "watch it" or behind door #2 Not; and Dean was about to get his ass handed to him. The older of the two boys just stared back deadpan waiting to see which door his father would choose, hoping he could make a clean break for it if John decided on the latter.

John dug his hands deeper into his pockets as he turned his body slightly towards Dean. _"You got some mouth on you kid." _

"Hey Sammy" he said smoothly after a beat, never breaking eye contact with his eldest. "Run across the street and get us some coffee will ya? I need to have a little talk here with your brother."

Damn.

Sam struggled to keep his composure as his eyes darted back and forth between his dad and Dean. He'd already had his little meltdown with his father earlier, on the side of the freaking road no less, and he'd been wondering how much longer it was going to be before Dean broke. Ever since their dad had ditched him, in favor of going after the demon by himself, Sam could see Dean's worship of the man and his blind obedience beginning to waver. Lately it seemed as though you could cut the tension between the three of them with a knife but in all his life he had never heard Dean purposely bait his dad like that. He knew something was coming, a storm was definitely brewing, but he wasn't expecting this. Not from Dean at least.

Sam silently spoke to Dean as he caught his eyes. _"Dude, do you have a death wish? What the hell are you doing? You know he's already pissed off at us for not following orders. Did you have to go and pour gas on the fire? What do you want me to do?"_

Dean shrugged somewhat apologetically and swallowed hard. With a slight nod and a feeble smile Dean gave Sam permission to leave. As usual his eyes said it all. _"Go ahead Sammy, there's nothin you can do to prevent what's coming and I'd rather you not be here to witness it."_ Seeing that anxious look in Dean's eyes killed Sam.

His older brother rarely showed any emotion, much less fear. Not that their dad was abusive but he had been known to put a boy in his place every now and then. It didn't matter if you were three or twenty-three. Nope. If John Winchester felt one of his sons had some behavior that needed "correcting" then you could count on him correcting it. Disobeying orders? Being disrespectful, mouthy? Dean had practically sent their father an engraved invitation to kick his sorry ass.

Just fuck.

Sam stumbled around his teeth. "Uh….yeah sure Dad; no problem" he said reluctantly as he slowly headed for the door. He dropped the bag of guns he had been holding on the floor as he headed out tossing his older brother one last sympathetic glance.

John glanced briefly over his shoulder as the screen door slammed shut before turning his gaze back to Dean. His oldest boy hadn't moved a muscle. He could see the uncertainty in his face and could almost see the tension pulsating off his body. The way he was clenching his jaw was a telltale sign that he knew he was in the wrong to speak to his dad that way. Good. John didn't raise stupid boys.

Dean broke the silence first. His voice was a little shaky but dry as he rolled his shoulders and squared off with his father. "So, what's it going to be this time Dad? Smack to the head? The belt? Or would you rather verbally rip me a new one? Or, better yet" he continued snapping his fingers, "Why not just up and leave again with no explanation?" He braced himself for his father's response.

John's gaze darkened as he took a step closer to Dean and looked down at his son. Maybe a tiny bit of stupid had managed to sneak into this one after all. He had to give the kid credit though. He didn't move an inch as his father crowded into his personal space. All he had originally wanted to do was talk but if his son was going to continue to serve up this level of attitude and lip then yeah; he would be more than happy to let his belt do the talking. He didn't give a rat's ass that he was twenty-three. His kids knew better than to talk to him like that, especially this particular kid. But John had been a father to these two boys for a long time now and while his patience with this one was wearing thin he knew Dean was upset and that this conversation had been a long time coming. John knew he was going to have to keep his temper in check in order to get Dean to vent out the frustration that he had been bottling up inside himself for the past few months so he chose to ignore the last few comments, even though his hand was beginning to itch.

"You wanna tell me what's going on with you?" John asked low and flat as he inched a little closer, his hand snaking out to take a hold of his son's elbow now when he attempted to take a step back. He successfully grounded Dean into place with his dark eyes. "You know" he paused. "These past few days you've been a real pain in the ass. So far, I've let it slide but today? You're really pushin your luck kiddo so start talking or I'm gonna have to rethink my decision not to smack that smart ass right out of your mouth."

Dean was slightly taken aback. Did his father, John Winchester, ex-marine extraordinaire just ask to talk?

Huh.

He pondered the thought for a moment. He could handle a tongue-lashing. Hell, hardly a day went by without John raising his voice, yelling and/or criticizing at least one of his boys. He could even handle the occasional physical rebuke John sometimes doled out. That shit he was used to. That he expected. But talking?

WTF?

Winchester men didn't "talk". This was a new one for John and Dean didn't quite know what to do, how to feel.

His dad had ditched him, plain and simple. For over two years the man had barely let him out of his sight and then one morning, with no warning he had just up and left. They had been separated for a while now. Six months, 3 days and 11 hours to be exact. No phone calls, no texts about where he was or why he left, no nothing. Jack- fucking squat unless you count the one or two stupid coordinates he sent leading to some lame ass hunts. And, when the almighty alpha Winchester did finally emerge, from wherever the hell he'd been hiding out, Dean for the most part, had fallen right back into line. No questions asked, no attitude, no cold shoulder, nothing. Just the same blind, conditioned obedience he'd always had; and this is how he was being repaid? His old man had the balls to give him shit for saving his ass? So what that he told him, no, strike that, ordered him and his nineteen-year-old brother to get the hell out of dodge. He would have gotten himself killed or worse, abandon them again for what, another six months? Oh hell no! Stormy green eyes looked up at his dad and he could feel the rage building inside him.

Six months, 3 days and 11 hours of pent up worry, fear, feelings of worthlessness, and eventually anger suddenly came flooding to the surface. Twenty-three years of _always_ following orders, _always_ being the one to watch after Sammy and _always_ trying his hardest to be the good son. All with the hopes of getting just the slightest bit of attention from his father had finally taken its toll. As soon as Dean felt his resolve betray him and tears starting to sting his eyes he snapped.

His eyebrows drew together in frustration and he gave a throaty laugh of disbelief at the stupid question his dad had currently thrown down on the proverbial table.

"What's going on with me?" Dean asked dryly. "What's going on with me?" he said again pulling out of his father's grip, his voice now rising. "You really need to ask? He took a few steps back and swiped a frustrated hand down his face while he struggled to get his thoughts in order. There was nothing his dad could do now that would hurt as much a deserting him did so Dean thought; what the hell, and he let it fly.

"Six months Dad; that's what's going on with me. Six, Goddamn, long months of not knowing where the hell you were. Why the hell you took off in the first place. Not knowing if you were even dead or alive!" Dean started pacing back and forth like a caged tiger while John stood his ground, patiently waiting for his child to finish his tantrum, which just fueled Dean's rage even more.

"Jesus fucking Christ Dad, how could you do that to me? Dean yelled, getting up in John's face. "You never even called back when I was _dying_!" The look of sheer hurt on his boys face nearly brought John to his knees.

Dean took a few steps back, the fight in him still burning hot. "It's like you don't even give a shit about me anymore Dad; about us." He said waving his arm around the room. "And what happens now, huh? How long you plan on sticking around this time? Or are Sammy and me gonna wake up tomorrow to find your ass gone again? Then what? " He kicked the leg of the table hard. "How long until we hear from you next time, huh? Another six months? A year maybe? How long you son-of-a-bitch; fucking never!?" Dean's voice broke at that last thought.

He hated himself for losing control like that, especially in front of John. He couldn't remember the last time he spoke to his dad like that. Come to think of it, he never did. He was sure; yeah pretty damn sure he wouldn't be breathing right now if he had. Thank God Sammy was across the street. Dean almost laughed at the thought of having to peel his gigantor baby brother off the floor. Almost.

His son's tirade and the unadulterated fury behind it may have rendered John temporarily speechless but it didn't prevent his temper from flaring or his body from moving. He leaned in and smacked him a good one right across his face with the palm of his hand and for the first time in a long time he forgot to hold back. Open door #2. It was one thing for his boy to stand there and voice his frustrations; John could understand that. Forgive that even. Dean was confused and hurt by the way he had left things and John had to admit the boy had a right to be angry. A small right; but yeah, ok, he had a right. However, it was another thing for him to stand there and curse out his father the way he just had. No way John Winchester was going to stand for that. Not from a kid, especially his own kid. No fucking way. Not now, not ever.

"Just who the hell do you think you're talking to?" John spit out.

Dean stumbled sideways, reflexively palming his cheek. Holy shit! He'd forgotten just how strong his dad was and how hard he could hit. John rarely; very, very rarely hit that hard; especially on the face, but Dean knew he practically begged for it so he wasn't all that shocked that it happened. Still, it didn't change the fact that his cheek felt like it had just been slammed by a sledgehammer and he was two seconds away from crying like a girl. It also didn't change the fact that he was still pissed at his father. Maybe even more so now, but he did know better than to speak to the man like that. Twenty-three years of know better, but…

"I'm not sorry," he all but whispered.

"You're gonna be." John said taking another threatening step towards his boy. Once again Dean stood his ground and rolled his shoulders. Held his position ready to take whatever else his father saw fit to dole out.

John had to admit he was slightly floored. He had never seen his son act like this. Not towards him at least. Dean was the good one, his rock. The one who always obeyed him, the one he could always depend on. Dean could always hold it together, for Sam's benefit, even when John couldn't. He was a strong hunter, a damn near perfect solider, who always followed John's lead, did what he was told. Dean was…. he was….John's boy; still just a kid really. God dammit to hell, even at twenty-three years old he was still just a kid in John's eyes. His kid. And he up and left him. Left them both.

The reality of it all hit John like a ton of bricks. What had he done?

"Dean" John finally said softly as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He tried hard not to focus on the red mark beginning to bruise on his boy's cheek. "Dean, I…."

"Don't." Dean said letting go the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He quickly got himself under control and began backing away again. "Just, don't." He started to turn to head towards the door and John realized this was his only chance to make things right with his son, quite possibly his last chance. He needed to restore order and he needed to do it fast.

With lightning speed he grabbed his oldest by the shoulders and spun him around to face him again. His grip on him was firm but gentle.

"Look at me," John ordered. Dean tried to pull away again, embarrassed that tears were now starting to fall, but John pulled him back.

"Look at ME." he said a little more sternly. Dean's eyes rolled and he stared blankly into his father's eyes.

John took a moment and sighed deeply. Ok, this is good. Eye contact was good. This was progress; now; first things first.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." John said moving his one hand up to cup Dean's neck, lightly thumbing the side of Dean's face. "I didn't mean…." he started. Fuck this was hard, staring straight into eyes that reminded him so much of Mary. But the eyes in front of him were not what he remembered. They were not full of a young boy's hero worship for his dad. They were chock-full of betrayal and sorrow. It pained John to know he was the cause of all that hurt. He gently thumbed a stray tear off his boy's cheek. "I didn't me to hit you so hard."

Dean scoffed a little and John's ire began to rise again. He quickly counted to five as his fingers dug a little deeper into his son's shoulders. _"Don't push me boy"_

Realizing he was already walking on thin ice, Dean curled his lips around his teeth quickly before finding his voice.

"Relax Dad. I'm not a kid anymore, I can handle a little slap."

John relaxed his hold again. "Yeah you are. You're my kid; and we both know that was more than just a little slap. And I'm sorry, but listen up." he said straightening to his full height. "Trust me when I say you can count on another one if you ever use that kind of language or speak to me in that tone again. You hear me?"

"Yes sir." Dean said quickly as he carefully shifted out from under John's hands. He stood cautiously in front of his dad as he lifted his hand and gently touched his cheek again; his tongue swiped at the slight drop of blood in the corner of his mouth. Damn, it still hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. "I got that message loud and clear."

John nodded his approval. Good answer son.

More awkward silence. Winchester men didn't talk, but John was going to try. He owed his son that much.

"Listen, Dean, you and Sammy; you two are all I've got. Everything I do, every move I make, I do to protect you and your brother, to keep you safe."

"Bang up job you've done so far dad." Dean said complacently, once again his mouth acting without his brain's consent.

John sighed and shook his head. That cocky, smartass attitude his son wore so well was going to get him killed one day. Maybe even at the hands of his father. It was unfortunately the guard he used when he didn't know what else to do or say. John knew what Dean was doing. He saw right through him. He was trying to distract him so he could avoid having to address the meltdown he just had. Seeing the old Dean surface again John knew that things were going to be o.k. He now just needed to clear the air between them and address some the issues that have been obviously building over the past several months.

"You done?" John asked. It wasn't really a question. It was more of a warning; a "quit while your ahead son," warning that Dean seemed to pick up on pretty quickly.

"Sorry" Dean flushed. He still wasn't quite sure what to make of this whole scene.

John gave him another nod of approval but somehow let him know that it was his last "get out ass kick camp free" card.

"Look, I know I haven't been the model father. Hell," he laughed lightly "I haven't been much of a father at all lately, but that doesn't mean I don't care Dean. I just want this all to be over, you know? I want you to live a normal life. I want you to be able to walk into a dark room without having to carry a loaded gun full of salt and a bottle of holy water. I want you to go to school, get a real job and live life to the fullest." John paused, soaking in Dean's stunned expression. "I want you to meet a nice girl, get married, have some kids and experience all the things I didn't get the chance to after your mom died. That's what I want for you…. and Sammy too. So every move I make, every demon and evil son-of-a-bitch we kill, is hopefully brining me one step closer to getting you to that life….the life you truly deserve son."

Dean was shocked. Who the hell was this man in front of him? He spoke cautiously.

"Why didn't you ever tell me that before Dad?" Dean asked.

"Would you have listened?" John questioned.

Dean thought for a moment. "No". I probably would have yelled Christo or had you committed." he quirked. John gave another soft laugh.

"Look" John said. "I know I've been hard on you." He kneaded the knot that had formed at the base of his neck. "I know I've placed a lot of responsibility on you; too much. But that's only because I knew you could handle it son. You're a strong kid Dean, you always have been and you always will be. I'm proud of you. I'm sorry I've never told you that before."

Dean walked over to his father and clapped his hands onto his shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. "O.K., who are you and what have you done with my father?"

John put his hands in his pockets and shot Dean another look. "I'm trying to make a point here Dean."

"I know Dad." Dean said quietly, all joking aside now. "Its just….well…. I guess…. I guess deep down inside I kinda knew that's how you felt, but hearing you say it after all this time, that was kinda nice, you know? Totally unexpected and uncharacteristic_…._but nice… thanks."

"Thank you…for everything." John said placing his large hand on top of Dean's head and giving it a slight ruffle.

Silence filled the room again.

Dean shrugged out from under John again and coughed. "So what, you gonna kiss me now Dad? Tell me how much you love me?" he joked.

Within a second John had Dean's arm twisted up behind his back and his son unceremoniously bent over the table in front of them. John landed a sharp swat to his son's denim clad ass. "When are you ever gonna learn to control that smart mouth of yours?" He growled.

"Ow! Dad!" Dean exclaimed indignantly as he struggled against his father's hold. His free hand reaching back to block another potential hit and rub out the sting. He gave another unsuccessful struggle. "You can't do this to me anymore!" He yelled, pouting like a child. "I'm like, twenty-four!"

John smirked and leaned down close to Dean's ear. "Yes I can, and I will, whenever I think you deserve it. I don't care how old you are. I'm still the dad and what I say goes. And don't you forget it."

"Like you'd ever let me." Dean muttered under his breath still rubbing. Obviously his dad had been working out over the past six months.

"Besides, that was just a love tap." John said. "If it were meant to be a punishment it would have felt like this." He reached back and cracked his hand down one more time. This one so hard Dean gasped and actually started to panic a little until his dad yanked him upright. "Didn't realize I raised such a girl." John teased gently shoving his son back.

Once released, Dean made a move to get as far out of his father's reach as he could, but before he could take a step John grabbed a hold of his shirt at the shoulder and pulled him back in for a hug. Dean went stiff for a moment but then was instantly absorbed into John's arms and he relished every moment of it. The feel of his father's chin resting on top of his head gave Dean a sense of security he hadn't felt for a long time.

A few seconds went by before John saw fit to release him and the two stared at each other for a moment before the silence became awkward again. Dean looked up at his dad "So, uh, what now?"

"Well" John paused. "There's still that little matter of you and Sammy not obeying a direct order back there. We can "talk" about that if you like."

Dean's eyebrows shot up and he looked at John trying to decide whether he was joking or not. He couldn't tell. Damn it, that man was a master of his emotions.

Dean scoffed but quickly started making his way towards the door not taking his eyes off of John for one second.

"Speaking of Sammy, where the hell is that kid? He laughed nervously. "How long does it take to make a damn latte in this town? I better go check on him," he said stumbling over the bag of guns Sammy left by the door. "Son-of-a- bitch!" he exclaimed as he grabbed his coat and quickly headed out the door.

John turned and laughed to himself. "Yeah, you do that son." He murmured. "I'll be here when you get back. You can count on it."


End file.
